


A Sort of Proposal

by The1stHarbinger



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13565808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The1stHarbinger/pseuds/The1stHarbinger
Summary: Written for thekinksofcamelotkink meme prompt:Somebody, please get Arthur and Merlin proposed to and wed! I don't mind which of them proposes to the other, though it would be quite interesting to see Merlin do the asking and being all shy/nervous because he's a servant asking the king/crown prince to marry him... Canon era is preferred.Merlin doesn’t know what takes hold of his mind and possesses him to blurt out what might quite possibly be the most foolish thing he has ever said (quite an accomplishment, even he’ll admit)..."Can I marry you?"





	A Sort of Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't been in the Merlin fandom when the original kinkmeme was still around, so I'm really glad this is a thing again because I'd always wanted to participate. For those who have not yet checked it out, you can find the new meme here: [Kinks of Camelot](https://kinksofcamelot.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Not beta'd or Brit-picked, so obviously all mistakes are my own. Hope you enjoy :)

Merlin doesn’t know what takes hold of his mind and possesses him to blurt out what might quite possibly be the most foolish thing he has ever said (quite an accomplishment, even he’ll admit). Maybe it’s the wine he’s been savouring for the past hour that leaves him cozily warm and his head a little fuzzy. Maybe it’s the rumours spreading through the castle that always seem to halt, abruptly, whenever he comes too near and giggle reticently at his apparent and unabating obliviousness. Maybe it’s the fact that Arthur’s been king for almost a year now and hasn’t yet concerned himself with the potential of a queen.

Or maybe it’s the way Arthur’s hair is glistening in the firelight tonight, the locks like spun gold. Or the way his eyes, so fiercely blue, gleam as he recalls an incident during training that afternoon for Merlin. Maybe it’s the way he throws his head back when he laughs, carefree and light, his Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly and his fringe spilling across his temple in a way that shouldn’t be physically possible.

Maybe it’s just Merlin, not as young as he was but still stupidly in love. His heart races, and his palms are cold with sweat, and maybe that’s why he starts to speak before thinking through what he’s going to say. Or maybe not, because—

“Can I marry you?”

—is  _surely_  not what he meant to say.

Arthur’s laughter cuts off, and Merlin finds he can’t remember what had been so funny in the first place. Then again, he hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention, embarrassingly caught up with waxing poetic about Arthur’s beauty as he was.

It’s when Arthur’s eyes widen that Merlin backtracks, realises what he’s just said, wonders what came over him. Quickly adds,

“Theoretically!”

… as if that makes it at all better. Arthur’s staring at him as if he’s just grown a unicorn horn and is about to stab him with it. (Merlin silently thinks he’s more likely to stab himself.)

“I’m only asking because… because…” And really, why  _had_ he asked? Certainly not because he actually wanted to marry Arthur or something silly like that.

He knows he’s babbling and starting to flail a little, can feel the heat pooling in his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. “I’m asking for someone else,” he comes out with.

It’s ridiculous. Merlin thinks he wouldn’t mind being swallowed up by the floor right about now if it meant he could get out of this situation. He tries to remind himself that Arthur has a penchant for believing the far-fetched and the downright absurd, but with the way Arthur’s looking at him right now, he doesn’t think he could talk his way out of this one (even if he were sober).

Arthur’s uninspired, “What on  _earth_  are you mumbling on about this time?” is a bit of a relief (and not at all disappointing). He’s letting Merlin play it off like it’s something trivial—a likeness to the random nothings he spouts about everyday.

Maybe it’s Arthur being surprisingly thoughtful, or maybe Arthur just doesn’t want to have a conversation this odd and baffling, but Merlin takes the out. He laughs uncontrollably, overstates his inebriation, shakes his head. “Nothing, never mind,” he says.

But then Arthur says, rather brazenly Merlin thinks, “No, go on. Tell me. Who is it that wants to marry me this time?” He’s got a look in his eyes that Merlin can’t discern, too intoxicated and embarrassed to think about what it might mean for him.

“Can’t say,” he tells Arthur instead of pondering it too much. There must be another conversation going on, a silent one, but whatever it is it’s one-sided. He gulps down some more wine, hoping it’ll bring him courage—or at the very least assist him in indifference.

“Someone like you, then? Is that why you’re asking?” Arthur’s making it sound inconsequential, like the conversation doesn’t really mean anything to him. Yet he’s staring at Merlin intently. Much too intently for comfort.

Still, Merlin can’t think of anything else to say. He nods. Fidgets with the base of his cup and almost knocks it over.

“Are they a servant?” Arthur asks. He doesn’t mean anything by it, of course. Merlin did remember that Arthur once courted Gwen.

He’s defensive, anyway. “ _Yes_. So what? He cares about you a lot.”

Arthur sits up in his chair, swift, as if he’s about to pounce. “He?”

Merlin hasn’t been looking at him for most of the conversation, has mostly been looking everywhere  _but,_  but now Merlin’s gaze flies up. He knows he’s slipped up by the way Arthur’s stare is almost unbearably piercing. “No!” is the first response that comes to mind.

But then he loses track of why he should bother to deny this. Why he should deny anything. He hadn’t thought Arthur would take it this far, but there they are, gossiping like a couple of girls with too much time on their hands.

Except it doesn’t feel like gossip.

“Yes,” he concedes.

Arthur’s blinding grin, while lovely, is altogether rather surprising. “You know,  _Mer_ lin, you’re going about this all wrong.”

“What?” Merlin says, confused.

“From what I understand, when one fancies another they’ll usually begin with a courtship. This, of course, may or may not lead to an actual relationship. I do believe there’s a bit of kissing involved, and perhaps some other things besides, and  _then_ comes proposals and marriage. And then babies. Although I don’t think we should concern ourselves with those just yet,” Arthur makes a face that would have been comical under normal circumstances, such as these were not.

Merlin sputters, “I— wha— I didn’t propose!”

Arthur’s responding raised eyebrow clearly conveys his scepticism. “You asked if you could marry me, Merlin. While I admit it’s not how it’s traditionally done, I’m the king, and I say it still counts.”

“Now hang on a minute,” Merlin says, lost. “You…  _want_ to marry me?”

Arthur’s eyes roll in his head, like the answer should be obvious, and it makes Merlin wince. But then he forgets all about that because Arthur’s mouth is on his, and before he knows it, Merlin’s pressing back.

Maybe it’s because Arthur’s lips are so soft against his, they're irresistible. Maybe it’s the way he licks lightly at the corner of Merlin’s mouth, or the way his breath fans hotly against Merlin’s jaw.

Maybe it’s the sweetness of his lips. Maybe it’s the plumpness of them, so utterly delectable.

Or maybe it’s just Arthur.


End file.
